Are You There, God?

By Theresa A. Campbell

As a young woman in rural Jamaica, Dupree struggles to maintain a home for herself and the ailing aunt who is raising her after she was abandoned by her teenage mother. The effort of life with no electricity, running water, or money often leaves Dupree battered and bruised, but she refuses to be defeated. She might have been forced to grow up too fast, but she will not succumb to the wiles of the devil, choosing instead to rely on the power of Almighty God to help her through.
After a brutal attack that takes her to hell and back, Dupree must reach for her inner strength once again to survive. Her journey for a better life leads her to Kingston, a city some people refer to as "Jamaica's Sodom and Gomorrah." There, she sees and experiences things beyond her imagination. Dupree seeks comfort in the arms of her Prince Charming—but he might just be a wolf in sheep's clothing.
Caught up in a web of lies and betrayal, Dupree fights to save her life. In pure desperation, she seeks an answer to her question, "Are you there, God?" Will she be around to hear His response, or will it be too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Urban Books
• Release date: Jan 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781622862931

Book preview

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Prologue

Falmouth, Trelawny, Jamaica West Indies Year: 1978

I am going to kill you! he roared. Not even the vultures will find you when I’m done with you!

His trunk-like arms around her neck tightened their hold and her small mouth popped opened like a drowning man as she gurgled, struggling unsuccessfully to suck some much-needed oxygen into her lungs. With her tiny arms flapping around wildly and her feet hovering above the ground, she kicked frantically as she fought against her own demise.

Two enlarged pools of tears connected with his two fiery eyes, pleadingly, but the vise grip only clamped down harder, crushing her trachea. Aunt Madge always said, Whatsoever sweet you will sour you, and she was admittedly right as always.

She felt her strength creeping away and his grip tightening as she realized now that it was all a lie. Everything was a lie.

Earlier that day, the sea of green, white, and khaki uniforms spilled through the wide-open classroom doors and the front gate of the high school in triumph as if they were escaping from prison and feared recapture. Talking, laughing, and screaming voices collided with each other as hurried feet zigzagged in every direction. After five days of hard work, the anticipation of the upcoming weekend was contagious and explosive. And she was no exception.

She hustled her way through the tight-meshed bodies, stepping on toes, excusing herself, slightly running, and waving to familiar faces. She was on the clock and it was ticking faster than she wanted. Her brown eyes sparkled and her head bobbed softly back and forth, to and fro as she hummed a tune, grinning and giggling as she rushed home. She needed to complete her chores as soon as possible before sneaking out to meet her baby. Tonight she would tell him the good news, she thought excitedly.

A few minutes later as she sprinted down the small, narrow dirt-paved track to her house, her head snapped back sharply as her body collided with a falling heap of flesh and bones. Recovering quickly, she reached out and grabbed Mother Sassy’s arm before she hit the ground. Too wrapped up in her thoughts, she failed to see the older woman coming toward her.

I’m so, so, sorry, she apologized, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Your head is certainly in the clouds today, was Mother Sassy’s curt response. Chile, you just too young to be running around like a chicken with its head cut off. But after a long day at school, I guess you are a little distracted.

She smiled awkwardly without making eye contact and tried to carefully maneuver around Mother Sassy, but she grabbed on to her arms.

What is this, dear Father? Girl, is that belly you have there? Mother Sassy exclaimed. Her hands flew to her mouth and her eyes widened in shock, already answering her own question instead of waiting for a response.

Oh, no, no, ma’am, she stuttered in fright. I just put on a little weight. That’s all.

That’s all my foot! I know a bun in the oven when I see one. I done have me eight chil’ren, so you can’t fool little ol’ me.

She knew she was in trouble now. Mother Sassy and Aunt Madge had been going to the same church for years and became very close after Mother Sassy took a younger Aunt Madge under her wing. Mother Sassy was also the mouth-a-masse for spreading other people’s business, and she knew many people in her community would see her as an outcast once her secret was exposed.

I don’t know what you are talking about, she responded, her words chipped in ice, and she quickly walked away.

With her mind running a hundred miles per hour, she pondered her situation. But what if he isn’t happy with what I am about to tell him? After all, he is a well-respected man in the community and his reputation means the world to him. She felt a sense of uncertainty nestled in her gut.

Later that night her breathing echoed around her with every fast exhale and weary inhale. Worry was etched across her face as she stared into the darkness of the night through the broken, dirty classroom window. Frantically pacing the uneven concrete floor, she wrapped her little arms around her body in a futile attempt to ward off the cold draft that crept into the already-chilly room. Muttering words of comfort, she sighed impatiently as she went again to sneak another peek outside.

The pitch-black classroom lit up for a few seconds from headlight beams of the approaching vehicle as it passed through the gates of the high school. With a renewed burst of energy, she shot to her feet. By now she knew the routine very well and as if she were programmed to do so, she went into action. She quickly pulled her well-worn dress over her head and slipped off her underwear. After spreading an old, thin sheet on top of the shaking, metal table, she gingerly lay down, staring up at the ceiling, and waited in silence.

Soon his presence filled the room, and to her he seemed larger than life itself. He rubbed in hands in glee and smiled in anticipation when he saw her waiting for him. He was in a hurry to get home that night so he knew he had to get out of there fast. The usually insignificant sound of his belt opening seemed to reverberate loudly off the walls. With her eyelids tightly closed, creating a barrier for the unshed tears, lips firmly folded, she trembled uncontrollably. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or anxiety but her mind was too numb then to figure it out. It took a minute for him to undress and without saying a word to interrupt the haunting silence of the night, he went to her.

It was a brief encounter but to her it felt like forever. Feeling fully satisfied with himself and not the least bit concerned with his despicable behavior, he slowly raised himself up and began to pull away from her. But she wrapped her small arms around his neck and forcibly held on to him. She knew she couldn’t allow him to leave until she told him her news. With her eyes still closed in fright, she stuttered as she tried to speak but no words came. Now impatient and frustrated with her actions, he reached behind to unclasp her hands from around his neck and was surprised at her strength as she held on.

Still visibly shaking but determined to be heard, in a small but clear voice she whispered softly in his ear, I think I am pregnant.

He froze in shock as he saw his entire life flash before his eyes. He was as good as dead, for surely his wife was going to kill him.

You are what? he shouted. You can’t be pregnant. Weren’t you on the pill? he asked.

She looked at him blankly; she had no idea what he was talking about.

He stared down at the naïve, naked girl and felt sick to his stomach. It had just dawned on him that he had been abusing this young girl for a few weeks now. And to make matters worse he never took the necessary precaution to protect them both. Now here she was, a child who was going to have a child: his child. He knew he might as well just kill himself because his wife, her parents, or his were going to do it anyway, and if not, then he was going to prison for a long, long time. But maybe, just maybe, there was a way out of this awful situation.

You can’t have this baby. I will give you the money to go to Kingston and get an abortion. No one has to even know you were ever pregnant.

She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. Her mother had lost her life to give her life and she would rather die herself than kill her baby.

I am not killing my baby, she screamed. Her anger gave her the courage to go against his wishes. And then it happened. He snapped and changed into a terrifying animal right before her eyes.

In a flash he jumped to his feet and reached over and grabbed her by the neck, lifting her small, naked body like a rag doll into the air.

Oh, yes, you will, he growled. One or both of you will have to go, someway, somehow, and I am going to make sure of it.

Then he began to squeeze the life out of her, literally.

I’m going to die now, she thought as she kicked wildly and scratched at his face.

As the room spun around and around, Officer Gregg’s grip on her neck tightened. She felt lightheaded and knew she was about to lose consciousness. Suddenly her head seemed to explode as she was flung roughly into the wall where she bounced off like a ball before landing face down on the dirty concrete ground. Pain exploded in every available artery in her body. Choking and coughing, she desperately sucked some much-needed air into her burning lungs. Tears poured from her red eyes as she whimpered weakly, folding her aching body into a protective ball. She wasn’t sure why he didn’t kill her, but she knew she needed to get away from him quickly before he changed his mind and finished the job. But she was hurting too much and was too weak to move.

She felt her aching head jerk back as Officer Gregg grabbed a handful of hair and snapped her head off the floor. She felt the cold metal of the gun pressing in her neck and screamed in terror.

Please, don’t kill me, She pleaded. I’m sorry. Please.

You better not call my name to anyone, Officer Gregg screamed into her ringing ears, spit flying out his mouth. If you do, I will come back and kill you. In fact, I will kill your precious aunt Madge first. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her now, would you? he threatened.

She shivered in fear.

Would you? Officer Greg growled.

She shook her head and winced at the pain. He waited a few seconds before he loosened his tight hold on her hair and stood up, before hurriedly pulling on his clothes. He then stormed out the classroom without a backward glance at the wounded young girl he had almost killed.

She breathed a sigh of relief after the rackety door slammed shut. Pain like she had never known before pierced her body from head to toe but she found the strength to roll over onto her back and then into a sitting position. Even her shallow, labored breathing sent arrows of piercing agony through her body, but down on all fours she slowly crawled to an old metal chair close by. Feebly hanging on to its unsteady legs, she painfully stood up and wobbled over to a window that overlooked the tall bushes where he usually parked. Trembling in fear, she peeked outside, noticed his vehicle was gone, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Staring aimlessly, hurting physically and dying mentally, the small flicker of something bright in the distance caught her squinting eyes as she gazed into pure blackness. The haunting shadows of the large pine trees at the back of the old high school made the dim light even more obscure, but she knew what it was and strained her eyes to get a glimpse of the big old cross on top of the church. Most of the lights were broken, forming an I instead of the usual T, but she knew what it was, and instantly Tiny felt her shame and loneliness choking the life out of her, again.

Chapter One

Year: 1991

Brown focused eyes hardened into small slits. Her nostrils flared open and her teeth locked tight behind folded lips as she held her head high and walked swiftly but steadily down the noisy school corridor. Dupree knew she needed to get away from them fast. She refused to give in to her anger or reveal the pain their ugly words were inflicting. Whoever said sticks and stones will break your bones but words will never hurt you was a big fat liar, she thought.

Dupree is ugly like duppy.

Dupree is as black as night.

Dupree is an awful sight.

Those were just some of the hateful words ricocheting off Dupree’s back as she hurried down a flight of stairs. But her haste never deterred the bullies who ran behind her singing their new Dupree rhymes, giggling, laughing, and jeering as they hurled bullets of venom words at her back.

Eyes burning from unshed tears, Dupree flew across the schoolyard, trying to avoid a collision with the many students and teachers who seemed oblivious to her distress. Finally breaking out into a sprint, she zoomed through the school gate, briefly glancing back to see that her tormentors had fallen behind. But she kept running like a bat from hell, until she got to the privacy of the narrow dirt track leading to her house.

It was only then that Dupree allowed the floodgates to open. With her back pressed firmly against a tall breadfruit tree for support, she deeply sucked some much-needed air into her dry lungs as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her woeful, wet eyes looked over the top of the trees in the farm below and stared at the flowing body of water in the distance.

I can’t do this anymore, Dupree whispered. I’m so tired of this.

Thirteen-year-old Dupree lived with her grandaunt on the outskirts of Falmouth Trelawny, in Jamaica. Her mother, Tiny, was only fifteen years old when she got pregnant with Dupree and dropped out of high school. She told everyone that she didn’t know who Dupree’s father was, and no one volunteered for the job, so it was left to Aunt Madge to take care of Dupree.

One week after Dupree’s birth, Tiny took off for bright lights and fast action in Kingston and was never to be heard from again. Aunt Madge, who didn’t have any biological children and had raised Tiny like her own after her sister Ellen died, was heartbroken when she left. Now she had another young baby to take care of and she took Dupree like her own daughter. Many people who didn’t know their history actually thought she was.

Later that night the crickets could be heard whispering to each other, the trees cast their shadows on the ground, and the stillness of the dark night hugged the small board houses in the closeness of its arms. It seemed as if everyone was on a sleeping journey far into a place filled with snores and steady breathing. Everyone, that was, except for Dupree, who lay curled up in a fetal position under her little metal bunk bed. The tears flowed freely down her face as she cried softly into her tiny arms. Her small body shook in agony as the pain in her heart became just too much for her to bear. She felt she was ugly because of her deep dark-chocolate complexion and her bullies at school did enough to hammer it into her head and her heart.

As Dupree cried, she prayed quietly, hiccupping between words, knocking on heaven’s door for a much-needed miracle. Are you there, God? It’s me, Dupree, again, dear Father. Can you hear me, Lord? Please, God, I am begging you to make me into a pretty girl. I don’t want to be ugly no more, God. Please, please, God, I am begging you from the bottom of my heart.

But as she wept, Dupree knew in her heart that God would not hear her prayer, because she had been praying every night for over four years now and nothing had changed.

Juicy oranges! Fresh corns! Barbie yam, yellow yam, sweet grapefruits! Come and get it! For a small price, we have it! Dupree’s small voice struggled to win the shouting match of numerous altos, sopranos, and tenor sale pitches and sale bargains of the many sellers and buyers, scattered all over the confined space like ants seeking fat.

There were dozens and dozens of wooden stalls that created a market maze. Some were leaned to one side in protest and others were piled so high they defied the law of gravity. Anxious sellers desperately in need of a sale screamed out offers at the top of their lungs. Some daring enough grabbed the arms of potential customers, pulling them in one direction, while another competitor pulled in another. Frustrated losers protested the freedom of choice, resulting in cussing sessions, some very embarrassing to Dupree and Aunt Madge.

It was a buyer-seller circus and Dupree and Aunt Madge were a part of the act, desperate to lose their goods in exchange for some much-needed cash—goods that were planted by Aunt Madge’s own hands.

Their little stall was rainbowed with neatly arranged fruits and produce of every color and variety, such as yam, bananas, sweet potatoes, breadfruits, sweet corn, ackees, oranges, mangoes, and grapefruits. It was like a guppy in a school of sharks. But what they lacked in quantity was made up by the high quality.

Business is good, Aunt Madge said as she watched their goods flying off the stall.

Aunt Madge was a small-time farmer who planted most of the food they ate and all they sold. She also raised a few chickens and a pig now and then. So Dupree was never hungry because she could always have found something to eat, even if it was an orange or a mango.

By society’s standards Aunt Madge and Dupree were very poor, but if you asked Aunt Madge she would tell you that she was one of the richest women on earth. Oh, yes, she was a child of God and her Father was the King of all kings. Aunt Madge was a very religious woman and she instilled these values in Dupree.

Then it happened.

When you think it’s peace and safety, it’s sudden destruction, came to Aunt Madge a few mornings later, her face drenched in sweat as pins and needles poked into every available pore. Her hands and feet lay lifeless on the bed as the unbearable pain fought to rip her apart, making it impossible to move. She was as sick as a dog.

Not hearing the familiar banging and knocking of Aunt Madge’s pots and pans in the outside kitchen before she left for the field, Dupree, who had just awoken, quickly jumped off her bed across the room from her aunt’s and in four quick steps was leaning over her in concern.

Aunt Madge, are you okay? she asked nervously as she picked up a lifeless hand, staring into her agonizing eyes. The only responses were deep groans and moans. As she watched her giant crumble right before her eyes, Dupree wept deep heartbreaking, soul-wrenching sobs.

It is said that when it rains it pours, because Aunt Madge’s condition went from bad to worse.

Dupree, assisted by Sister Nadine, took Aunt Madge to the hospital, and was told that she was suffering from a neurological disorder that gave her a stroke. However, without health insurance and little money, there wasn’t much done for her. She was given some pain medication and basically sent home to pray for a miracle.

As one sorrowful day dragged into the next, the life seemed to slowly drain from Aunt Madge. Her legs were like two stiff pieces of board, while her tongue stayed frozen in one place. She was unable to walk or talk, and was eventually bedridden. Now thirteen-year-old Dupree had to take care of herself and her aunt.

Ducking under low-limbed trees that grabbed at her face, Dupree waddled through the rough knee-high bushes, trampling on slippery, stained grasses, skipping over sharp rocks and swatting biting, annoying insects as she ran back and forth, huffing and puffing, collecting dry wood as the afternoon sun rained down mercilessly.

When her pile was high enough, she pulled both ends of the rope under the wood together and tied a tight knot. Groaning under the weight, she lifted her heavy load onto her head and gingerly made her way back home. This was a routine she did every few days and knew the woods around her house like the back of her hand.

They needed the dry wood for cooking because they could not afford a gas stove or the money to purchase coal from Mr. Weather down the road.

Once she arrived back home, over and over again Dupree raised the big machete over her head, and then brought it down hard, slicing through the big pieces of wood, creating a much larger pile of smaller pieces to fit under the cooking pot.

But it only took one missed second. As the machete sliced through the air rhythmically, when lowered, it missed the piece of wood intended and instead connected with Dupree’s big left toe. Blood spurted out like a sprinkler and quickly covered the surrounding area like a thick red blanket.

Grinding her teeth in agony, Dupree fell to the ground and wrapped her fingers around the throbbing piece of flesh. Unshed tears burned her eyes and her lips trembled uncontrollably but she willed herself not to cry. As the shock of the accident washed over her body, she struggled to stand up and hopped into the house to retrieve a clean old shirt. Ripping off a piece, she wrapped the cloth tightly around her injured toe, stopping the flow of blood and warding off an unwelcome infection. But as the pain wreaked havoc on her body, Dupree fought against it and went back to make dinner for Aunt Madge.

Rough, uneven boards held together by long, sharp nails and a few naked sheets of zinc on the roof, was the small outside kitchen. On a rainy day, the pouring water danced right on in, turning the dirt-covered flooring into a slippery, muddy slop.

Standing on two cement blocks, Dupree added a few inches to her shorter stature to reach the height of the fireplace. As she peered into the big cooking pot, thick clouds of smoke quickly filled the small space, wrapping itself around her and lashing out angrily at her eyes, drawing a constant flow of tears as if she was crying. But using the clean towel she kept around her neck, Dupree wiped her face without losing concentration on the dinner she prepared.

Dupree tried to cook everything from stew pork and jerk chicken to red pea soup. That evening the delicious aroma from the chicken soup perfumed the air. Balancing a steaming bowl in her hand, Dupree slowly made her way up the shaky board steps inside the house to feed Aunt Madge dinner.

With great effort she lifted Aunt Madge into a sitting position and while one hand unsteadily kept her from falling, the other awkwardly placed two pillows behind her back to keep her upright. Perched on the edge of the bed, Dupree repeatedly blew cool air on a spoonful of the hot liquid before putting it to Aunt Madge’s slightly open, unmoving lips.

The long days turned into weeks and the exhausted weeks into months but there was